Hot Knife
by gracefullyclumsy
Summary: Just as she was about to get up, there were a pair of firm hands suddenly hooked onto her hips. "Hey," Isaac's voice suddenly dropped. "Not so fast. How many times does a guy get to have a beautiful werewolf huntress on top of him?"
1. Chapter 1

_Shit, it's been a while since I've uploaded to fanfiction. Imagine my nervousness._

* * *

_I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife,  
I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter.  
If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that  
He's never gonna need another, never need another_

* * *

"Again," She breathed heavily, hauling herself to her feet as she felt the tender spots on her skin already beginning to bruise.

He sighed, blue eyes protesting but his lips clearly not doing the same. In a flash, she flew towards him, ring daggers glinting. He expected her to go for his torso, already raw with puncture wounds that would soon be on their way to healing, but instead, she aimed for his chest. Narrowly, he escaped the brutal end of one dagger, knocking it out of those skilled hands.

Unfortunately, she was faster.

Quick as lightning, her tactics changed, and she spun. There was a brief but damning moment where he never got over how her graceful she looked when she was about to kill someone, and that was her chance.

His pained grunt was like music to her ears as she kicked the back of his knees, jumped on top of him, and planted her palm firmly onto the back of his head all in one moment. "Isaac," She murmured, tracing circles on the back of his neck with the cold tip of her other dagger.

"Allison," He said, shivering at the icy touch. Where his voice previously held an ego-deflating type of disappointment, it had begun to sound more tired.

"I think I got you," She crooned. "So that's eight for me, five for you."

"Well," He began, face still in the pavement. "Glad to know one of us is keeping score."

She lifted herself up just slightly to let him flip over. Smiling, she wiped away the fragments of pavement from his cheek with the back of her hand. Raising his eyebrows, he commented, "Well, this feels familiar."

Her cheeks reddened. In such a short amount of time she had begun to feel more comfortable around Isaac, but she tried to remember that there was a line, and she had been tip-toeing dangerously close to it recently. She pulled her hand back like his skin had scorched hers. "Sorry."

Just as she was about to get up, there were a pair of firm hands suddenly hooked onto her waist. "Hey," Isaac's voice suddenly dropped. "Not so fast. How many times does a guy get to have a beautiful werewolf huntress on top of him?"

"More than once, obviously," She tried to keep her voice even despite the fire burning in her cheeks when he called her 'beautiful'. Allison tried to stray away from any male attention, knowing how girls her age seemed to drop their panties at the smallest compliment. A small part of her worried that, in the presence of this lanky werewolf with cheekbones that could cut diamonds and a smile that would cure cancer, she would abandon her entire belief system, if only for a moment, and do the same.

Fervently, she sprang back up to her feet to avoid the warm feeling that began to pool in the pit of her stomach and breathlessly said, "Again."

He stood slowly, looked somewhat hurt. "You know, you're going to get sick of this eventually."

"How do you know?" She challenged. "Maybe I love kicking the shit out of you."

He pursed his lips and smiled, putting his arms out in a type of surrender. "Fine. Again."

Unyielding, she charged, hands balled into tight fists. As if in slow motion, he watched this relatively small warrior that was Allison Argent, coasting towards him, eyes like two burning stars, cheeks red and lips curled. He was almost positive that most of this frustration was in response to his smile of pure adoration.

He ducked under her left hook, arm snaking around her waist and tugging her towards him.

And boy, did she struggle.

"Isaac," She warned.

He looked at her innocently, despite those iron arms wound around her tiny frame. "Uncalled for, wasn't it?"

"I _called_ you because I wanted to practice." She looked away, speaking through gritted teeth.

"You don't _need_ any practice," Isaac said with a somewhat bitter laugh. "Everybody and their grandmother knows you could take out at least half of us without breaking a sweat."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't respond.

He couldn't help but feel sort of accomplished. She was completely rattled under his touch. Her heartbeat was racing out of exertion or excitement, or maybe both. Either way, he heard it drumming in his ears. Being this close, time seemed to pass hazily, like a thick fog. His heightened senses seemed to assault him. She was on fire, and, without the aid of hypersensitive werewolf abilities, he hoped that she realized he was on fire, too.

And, just like that, Allison's phone began ringing incessantly. It was an alarm she had set for herself, ten minutes before curfew. He silently cursed that alarm, momentarily forgetting that Allison had a father to go home to.

"Let go of me," She said softly, and he obliged.

"Wait," He said, jogging to match her fast-paced walk back to the car.

"I have to get home." She spun quickly before reaching the driver's seat of her car. Her voice was rushed, trying to sound as normal as she could manage. But he saw through it.

"You can spare me a moment," He said in a low voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

Her eyes searched his face, as though the answer was written in it. Unblinking, she snapped. "No. Can I go now?"

"Then why are you so nervous?" There was an edge to his voice.

"I'm not nervous." She bit back.

"Oh, really?" He challenged. "Because when I get this close, I can hear your heart beating out your chest."

She cursed those werewolf abilities of his as he inched closer. However, she didn't look away this time. Keeping her chin tilted up, eyes challenging him to go further. So he pushed the envelope, gently caressing her face with one hand and grabbing one hip with another roughly. Like she was his.

He knew he was running the risk of getting stabbed a couple dozen times, being so bold, but the tension between them crackled, and if she wasn't going to acknowledge it, then, dammit, he was.

He bent his head low, lips grazing her ear. Still, she did not speak. "You know, I don't have that much experience with girls," His hand moved to her waist, matching the other. His foot nudged hers apart and he gently shoved the both of them towards the hood of her car. He smiled wickedly. "So bear with me."

In one swift movement, he hitched both of her legs up and lifted her onto the hood of the car. She yelped as he settled himself in between them.

Yet still, she said nothing.

"Tell me to stop," He whispered, head still low so his lips could meet with the hollow of her throat. She inhaled his scent deeply, doing all that she could not to tilt her head into his touch.

His mouth traveled slowly, agonizingly, the tip of his tongue leaving a damp, hot trail along her throat. "Tell me to stop," He said again, harder this time.

Finally, she managed to pry her lips open, a newfound bout of confidence surging through her. "No," She said coarsely.

Coyly, he replied, "No?"

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his face towards her. His eyes were dark, glistening, lips already slightly swollen. At the delicious sight, she wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. "No." She emphasized.

Hungrily, she was ready to devour him when the alarm of a cell phone already long forgotten blared with the ring tone of, no doubt, her dad.

He groaned. "I hope you have a warranty on that phone, because I'm about to smash it."

She pulled herself out of the haze, not bothering to answer her father's phone call reminding her that she missed curfew, but reluctantly detaching herself from Isaac and running both hands through her hair nervously.

"This was a mistake," She stumbled into the driver's seat. "I'm sorry. But please do me a favor and don't follow me home."

He grimaced. "Don't flatter yourself, Argent."

Expecting that response, she smiled sadly and drove off.

* * *

_So I really hope that wasn't as terrible as you thought it was going to be. I'm still a little rusty and haven't written in a hella long time. There are so few decent Allisaac fanfics out there so I wanted to put my foot in the door. I might continue, we'll see. Feedback is always appreciated!_

_-Soph_


	2. Chapter 2

_Monday night's episode hurt me on a soul level. Okay, on with the story._

* * *

_Thick steam churned around Allison. The first thing she felt was her prickling skin, warm like a patch of sunshine on her bedroom floor. She was laid against the cool tiles, head lulled towards the ceiling, faintly making out the dim glow of the shower light._

_There was a body hovering over her. It was a faceless boy with wrinkly fingers gliding over her slick skin like a wise philosopher turning the pages of a well-loved book. The sharp points of his features were now soft as the dull light shadowed across face and he came in and out of focus. When she met his eyes, they flickered like strobe lights: blue, yellow, then blue, and then yellow again._

_Soft, dreamy sighs both escaped when their lips met. They parted, teasing with their tongues, tasting and savoring and growing to a searing heat. A low, inhuman growl rumbled in the chest of her faceless boy. And a small, lazy smile of accomplishment crept upon her lips._

_He placed soft, wet kisses on her neck, wandering down between the swell of her breasts, lingering on her stomach and on her hips. Static whirred in her ears, distant noises like the deep, heavy drops of the shower head cascading onto the both of them._

_She whimpered as he buried himself between her thighs, kissing the sensitive skin so lovingly that she felt a low pull in her stomach, butterflies trashing about, their wings getting trapped in the cavity of her chest. Instinctively, her legs spread, granting her mystery boy greater access, where he accepted it graciously._

_With a wisp of hot air, he enveloped his mouth against her, pursing his lips like he was catching the excess juice of a ripe fruit. Instantly, her hips bucked, and she grabbed his wet curls with a weak, damp hand, guiding him. He hummed against her, tongue skillfully flicking her clit._

_A knot formed in her stomach and the water had suddenly become louder in her ears. Slowly, the tongue that belonged to the nameless boy gently lapped her labia, as if trying to keep her on this side of the abyss while nudging for further entrance. She obliged, lifting a shaky leg onto the slippery wall. A stray hand latched onto her hip like he was trying to stabilize himself while exploring her deeper._

_She cried out when his tongue teased her entrance more with a more demanding force. Simultaneously, two long fingers slyly joined his mouth, gently twisting them until her thighs began to quiver violently under his touch._

_Despite that, her mystery boy did not stop. Rather, he sped up considerably, pumping in and out rhythmically, fingers pressing against inner her walls. She began to rock with the motion of his hands, the tremor of her legs never ceasing. Her whole body continued to ache for more, more, more, of this boy - no, this man._

_She felt as though she was being tossed amongst angry waves, swelling higher and higher until a final, keening cry brought her to the edge and pushed her over. Constellations of every color burned across her retinas, her whole body quaking. Throughout this, he did not stop, but rode out her orgasm with her._

_For the first time, he looked up at her with dark eyes and a sinful smile on his face. She threw her head back, the force of the blow probably cracking the tiles._

"_Isaac!"_

* * *

A feeling of falling tore through Allison and she jerked awake, instantly feeling a torrid heat pulsating from in between her legs. She peered at her bedside clock, seeing that it was well past midnight.

She threw her blankets off, climbing out and padding over to the window. With an effortless tug, a blast of bitter cold air hit her cheeks like a slap in the face. She peered out, looking around as if she were to find him waiting for her. Allison silently cursed that stupid werewolf for following her orders on not to follow her home.

She took a deep, cleansing breath of the crisp night air, and closed up the window again with an unneeded force. Two steps and she had returned to the warm nest that was her blankets, still unable to shake the vivid dream. It had been so long since she'd been touched. She was a loaded gun and Isaac was holding the trigger.

In between the slow pace that the heat within her subsided and the remorse that she felt, Allison somehow fell back asleep.

* * *

"Lahey!" Coach Finstock roared. "Hit the showers!"

Isaac didn't protest when he marched off the field with lacrosse stick gripped tightly in hand, cleats kicking up wads of frozen turf in his wake.

Allison came to the scrimmage after school in hopes that she would find time to apologize to Isaac; despite the obvious fact that the events of last night were still raw in her mind. Raw, like the numerous bruises that she found blooming on her legs and thighs – the claw marks on her forearm, most of them human, but some werewolf. She sat with a bitter taste in her mouth knowing that whatever evidence Isaac had acquired last night on his body were already healed, and hers were not.

But they would heal. Her dream, however – that was there to stay. And she wasn't sure if she could ever look at Isaac the same way again without the hazy image of him completely devouring her sending her over the edge every time.

A small group of students, those brave enough to attend the scrimmage despite the harsh weather, murmured as the team regrouped. Everything appeared normal on the outside, like a well-rehearsed play. Everyone was in attendance: Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Isaac. (Because in Allison's mind, everybody else had just been extras.) Day after day they played their roles to a T. Only there was no intermission.

"Remind me why we're here when central heating exists?" Lydia said as she gingerly bent the corner of the page in her novel. She followed Allison's gaze to Isaac as he disappeared into the building. "But it seems like the question _you're _asking is, remind me why _I'm_ here when you clearly want to find a dark corner with Lahey?"

Lydia reluctantly agreed to be in attendance with Allison in hopes to get an explanation for Allison's strange behavior.

So naturally, Allison told Lydia everything.

Nudging her, she quietly said, "Stop it. The plan is to go in there, apologize, and leave."

"Well, think of it like this: maybe he'll forgive you," Lydia said with a smile. "Over, and over, and over-"

Allison swatted her best friend with a scandalized gasp.

"Okay, kidding aside. Look, I know you're still in a weird place with Scott, and this whole alpha pack mess. But, sweetheart," She put her arm around Allison's shoulders comfortingly. "I think you owe it to yourself to have a little fun."

"You know I'm not very good at pretending like everything is normal," Allison said with eyebrows knit together.

With an understanding smile, Lydia said, "Allison, forget about the supernatural for a second. You're falling for a guy that you go to school with. It doesn't get any more normal than that."

* * *

Lydia, as always, was right.

She didn't remember the time between getting up from the icy benches to slowly inching open the door to the boy's locker room, her wise friend's brief but profound words still echoing in her head.

Allison knew fully well that he could hear her walking in, but didn't move from his spot on the bench. The sight of him never failed to take her breath away. She felt something swell in her chest like saltwater and it burned on her chapped lips. Seawater was sloshing in her throat and she could not speak, only let the tide bring her closer to him.

Quietly, she said, "I think I heard that he's going to be fine. Still a pretty shitty move on your part, though."

His jaw tightened.

"If I try and say something, will you listen to me?"

He didn't look up. "Well, I haven't kicked you out yet."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Allison threw her hands out in surrender. "I was scared – and I panicked."

"It's okay." He said lightly.

"Excuse me?" The air suddenly grew thicker.

Standing, he began to approach her slowly. "I said, it's okay."

She stared incredulously. "_It's okay?_ You're going to forgive me, just like that?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Just like that. Were you expecting a brawl?"

"Well, kind of," She admitted. "But what I did - it wasn't right, Isaac."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I can throw you across the room. Truth is, I probably need to redeem myself after last night. But since I'm a gentleman, I'll maybe even let you punch me in the gut a couple of times," He jutted his chin out, awaiting a sharp answer from the huntress. "And it's true, what you did _wasn't_ right. And I probably would have agreed with you under different circumstances. But do you want to _know_ why it's okay?"

She crossed her arms, saying nothing as he inched closer with a devilish smirk playing on his lips. "Because I decided to drop by last night. Not sure why – couldn't sleep, it's a bad habit, actually. Now I know you said don't follow you home, and I didn't. I came a little later. Something told me you were sleeping with a dagger under your pillow.

And I wasn't going to stay very long. But I noticed something… strange. You were tossing around in your bed. So I thought," He dramatically shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you were having a bad dream?"

His pupils seemed to bloom over his eyes as he stalked towards her. "I was about to leave, but your cheeks were so red, and you were sweating," His fingers ghosted along her hairline, causing her to shudder visibly. "And your hand was in between your legs, and you were whispering my name. So very, very quietly, a normal person might not have heard it."

As soon as the words left his lips, there was that low pull in the pit of her stomach – she was in trouble.

He had her against the lockers now, tall frame hovering over her leeringly – like in her dream. "Do you think about me often, Allison? When you were all hot and bothered in the middle of the night, did you wish I was there?"

Her voice was dripping with poison. "Don't flatter yourself, Lahey."

He smiled cheekily at the line he had used on her the night before. "But I have to know - what were you dreaming about?"

She painted on a smile that was too sugary-sweet, closing in on his face so that their lips were just a breath apart. "If you must know, Isaac, I was dreaming about stabbing you over and over and over again."

Like the Cheshire cat, his smirk grew, and he leaned in close enough that his lips were brushing her ear. The pale winter light silhouetted faintly against his prominent jawline, and she vaguely realized the situation she was putting herself in.

"Somehow I doubt that. But as long as it's _my_ name you're whispering at night, then all is forgiven," Pulling away, he gestured towards the door with a sinister wink. "Practice is almost over – you should probably go. We wouldn't want anyone thinking we were up to something, would we?"

* * *

_So I probably had way too much fun writing the last half of the chapter. I felt obligated to upload as fast as possible after all of you lovely people reviewed/followed/favorited! You guys seriously rule. Also, forgive me if that sex scene was absolutely dreadful - I'm kind of new at that. Okay, so it's 3 AM and I didn't thoroughly edit this, so I'll probably come back and iron out the kinks when I'm not running on caffeine. _

_It makes my day to hear from all of you, so please leave me your feedback!_

_-Soph_


	3. Chapter 3

_Allison dreaming of Isaac? hmm, that sounds familiar... #jeffdavisgetoutofmyhead_

* * *

Allison sat atop a frozen lawn chair on her back porch when she grew tired of standing. She knew that in order to perfect her craft, she should have stayed on her feet. In the same respect, she wondered if her craft even needed any more perfecting. (Her mother would argue yes.) With nimble fingers she lost track of how many arrows she let whistle through the air and plunge through the targets she set up on the other side of the icy concrete of the patio.

She threw herself into a routine for what seemed like hours, going through all of her arrows, then retrieving them from the targets until they were so mutilated to the point where they needed replacing, then reassuming her position on the uncomfortable piece of furniture.

Every arrow was laced with a fantasy that she let go whirring through the boards. Isaac slowly laying her down onto the bed. _Bang._ Isaac trailing hot, wet kisses along her shoulder. _Bang._ Her hands raking down the vast expanse of Isaac's strong back. _Bang._ Her legs wrapped around his waist. _Bang._ Isaac easily bringing the both of them to a seated position. _Bang._ Allison leisurely grinding against him, watching as he comes undone beneath her. Relishing in the control she had over him.

_Bang. Bang. Bang. _All the way until she's forgotten her own name.

In the midst of the silent tornado whirling around in her head, Allison neglected to see her father quietly setting a thermos of hot chocolate onto the nearby patio table. She felt gratefulness swell in her chest at the gesture, made a mental note to: thank him later, and kill Isaac for making her become so wrapped up in just the simplest thought of him.

She shot another arrow.

* * *

Allison continued forward, because it was all she could do. It was something she was good at.

The chilly morning started normally. The sky was pale. Frost crept up the windows of her car. She blasted the heat on the way to school. Meek smiles were exchanged and sleepy good mornings were murmured. The slush on her shoes made the tiles slick.

"You look nice today."

Isaac's voice made her blood boil as she subconsciously entered the combination to her locker. _Maybe_, she thought, _if I stood still enough he would go away_. "Too early. Try again fifth period."

He rolled his eyes as if he expected that answer. "You're welcome, Argent."

"Oh, Isaac! That's just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!" Allison moaned dramatically, ripping off her jacket for added affect. "Take me right now!"

He narrowed his eyes. "I was thinking of something more along the lines of 'thanks'."

"Right," She said bitterly, slamming her locker shut. "Cause that's always your angle."

"My _angle?"_ He said incredulously, easily keeping up with her pace. "Do you really think that low of me?"

Allison sharply rounded a corner and turned on her heels. "After telling me about your little adventure to my house in the middle of the night to watch me sleep, yeah, I can't help but figure that you have an angle."

"Fine, you caught me. And since it's blatantly obvious how hard you're resisting me," He lowered his head, those cobalt eyes smoldering darkly. It was a type of closeness that she was (and was not) used to. "I'm going to have to go personally out of my way to try and get you alone, get you so worked up, and then make you stumble back to class so that all you're thinking about is me."

She knew she was falling right into his trap when the back of her neck grew hot enough to melt the snows of Antarctica. She also knew how he reveled in seeing every drop of glistening sweat forming on her hairline, every goosebump rising on her collarbones, hear the thrum of her heart quicken, and how it was all at _his_ hand.

With a challenging tilt of the head, however, she rallied every muscle in her body to make damn sure she didn't look like it. "Your ego is astounding. And you're wasting your time when there are many other girls willing to bend backwards for you. Why don't you go find one?"

Thanking the fates for their perfect timing, Allison felt a surge of relief to see Lydia sauntering around the corner. With a sweep of her long, fiery hair, she flashed a dazzling, almost knowing smile at Allison. "Ready?"

Without sparing Isaac another glance, she hoisted up her backpack and said, "You should get to class, Lahey."

* * *

_Shut up. He said that?!_

Allison glanced back at Lydia, then back at the meticulous words scribbled on the scrap piece of paper.

_Yes, he said that. But he's bluffing. Thank god you came when you did._

She folded up the soft edges of the paper and slyly passed it back over to Lydia. She watched as her green eyes flitted across the note and looked back at Allison, lips pursed and eyebrows raised.

_Someone hasn't been heeding my words._

Allison frowned.

_I can handle getting hurt, but he's lost a lot of people. You know he's had a rough life. Plus, he's living with Scott. It's too weird._

Lydia looked as though she wanted to poke Allison in the eye with a pencil.

_So he's a little off the rails. It's __sexy. __He's a big boy. Scott's a big boy too. And you're a big girl. So put on your big girl panties and then let Isaac rip them off._

The letters appeared to be written with extra vindication, to which Lydia seemed thoroughly satisfied with. Allison put her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. But before she could write a response, Lydia had already snatched the note out of her hand and began scribbling furiously once more.

_Don't make me repeat myself, Argent. You're my best friend and I won't be convinced of your happiness until you are bitching about a __coital cephalalgia. You can crush the patriarchy tomorrow, but today congratulate yourself on being attracted to a person that doesn't have the last name McCall._

Allison shook her head to herself.

_Coital cephalalgia?_

_A rare type of headache that occurs at the base of the skull before orgasm. Not assuming you'll get them, but really. Pick up a book sometime._

* * *

When lunchtime rolled around, Allison was a livewire. Just like he wanted.

Part of her tried to keep telling herself that he was, indeed, bluffing. Another part of her knew that he would risk the consequences if he really meant it. And a small, miniscule, very wicked part of her that she would never admit to secretly wanted him to sweep her away just like he promised.

"Nervous?" Lydia poked as they sat.

"Me? Nervous?" Allison tried looked as though Lydia had just picked her from a crowd, but she wasn't buying it.

"That depends," Thoughtfully, she folded the paper napkins and neatly placed them on her lap. "Are you thinking about that trig test we're going to take or are you still waiting to be exhaustively ravished by Scottie's beta?"

Allison's eyes widened. "There's a trig test today?!"

"And a pretty brutal one, at that," Stiles seemed to have appear out of thin air, not bothering to ask if the seat was taken. Quietly following behind him was Scott, rightfully claiming a seat next to Stiles. Allison prayed he hadn't heard their conversation. Even if he did, he was too gentleman to acknowledge it. "Did a certain silver huntress forget to study?"

Allison threw a grape in his general direction, to which he proceeded to catch in his mouth.

With a mouth full of sandwich, Scott said, "It's really not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," Stiles struggled to open a bag of potato chips. "I'm sure you could see people's answer sheets with your freaky alpha powers."

"Give me that." Lydia snapped, seizing the bag of chips and easily opening them with her perfectly manicured fingers. Stiles mumbled a thank you before noisily digging in.

A new voice suddenly joined into the mix. "If there are freaky alpha powers, it's only fair that betas get some, too. Is this seat taken?"

Allison glanced up from her tray to see Isaac setting his tray down next to hers, then following suit. She visibly straightened, and every nerve in her body suddenly on red alert. Instantaneously she felt a heat radiating from where his thigh brushed hers. Not uncomfortable or stifling, but inviting, like she wanted to lean into it.

She bit roughly into an apple in hopes that the juicy taste would distract her. It didn't.

"I think we heard about the test… two days ago, maybe," Isaac tilted his head in Allison's direction, something in his eyes mischievous. "What were you doing?"

Both knowing that two days ago was the fateful night she stripped herself off of the werewolf and claimed it was a mistake, she lightly said into her apple, "Taking care of a problem."

"Not that talking about trigonometry isn't totally interesting," Lydia said flatly. "Does anyone have any plans for this weekend? Because I'll be damned if I have to spend another night watching reruns of _Friends._"

"Not spending time with your Aiden?" Stiles muttered.

"If you must know, Stiles," Lydia said very matter-of-factly, "Him and Ethan are out of town. He said something about finding a new pack. I don't know. So until then, I was thinking of something along the lines of a get-together at my place?"

"Getting plastered, I assume." Isaac said, purposely leaning into Allison as he spoke to Lydia. Allison stiffened.

Lydia glared. "I'm a lady. Ladies don't get _plastered. _But yes, I'm sure there will be some drinking."

"I wouldn't mind getting away from my dad," Scott piped up. "Count me in."

Everyone murmured in agreement. Lydia beamed her thousand-watt smile. For the remainder of lunch, Allison never relaxed.

* * *

With a full belly and weak knees, Allison was grateful to have a free period after lunch to get her mind off of _him_ and cram for that surprise trig test.

She excused herself to her locker. But out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure stalking behind her, footsteps heavy and determined. She braced herself, nails digging into her palm. The figure looped an arm around her middle. She struggled upon losing her balance, thrashing about as she suddenly heard the soft click of a door.

"Shut _up._" Isaac's voice said severely.

Allison's stomach dropped, hands balled into fists on his chest. "A supply closet? How original."

His face broke into a dazzling smile instantly. One that made her vision swim. "I'll let you pick the place next time."

"Your ego is _astounding._" She spat.

"Yeah, you already mentioned that," His smile never faltered. He loosened his grip slightly, as if knowing that she wasn't going to break free. A hand cupped her cheek, warm fingers caressing her cheek bone with a feather-light touch. "Clearly you knew I was going to keep my promise. You were a statue at lunch."

"You just love watching me squirm."

"True."

He didn't waste another moment before pulling her into a searing kiss.

Like a like switch she was on, fingers curling into his hair roughly and pulling him down. His silky lips, while moving along with hers, curled into a smile.

"That was too easy." He said in a breath.

"Shut up." Her voice matched the same severity as when he pulled her into the closet, but this time it was dripping with desperation. He was amazing. Allison hated herself for it.

His hands leisurely drifted up her sides, slipping off her jacket. Being exposed to the dank air of the closet only gave her more reason to envelope herself against him. Suddenly she couldn't get enough of him, breaking the steady rhythm of the kiss only to catch his bottom lip between her teeth.

She got the response she sought after: he groaned, low and wolf-like. One of his hands was steadying them on the wall beside her head, the other gripping her waist with a bruising force that sent shocks of heat right to her core. His lips traveled to her jawline, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of her throat, relishing in the sighs emitting from her every time.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," His words were hot and heavy.

"You're still not getting me to admit shit," Allison felt his chuckle fall short when she ran her hands down the front of his pants slowly, already feeling his hardness against her palm.

His breath caught, voice warning. "Allison."

"What, only you're allowed to get me worked up?" She whispered into his throat, stray hands still stroking him through his jeans. "That's not very fair."

He paused for a beat, as if contemplating. Roughly, he grabbed hold of her hands and wrapped them back around his neck. "Not that I don't love it, but as you know, I don't rank very high in self-control."

As much as she wanted to disobey him, she knew it was better to avert a situation involving yellow eyes and canines in the middle of the school. Wordlessly acknowledging her slight frown, he tucked his hands under her thighs and hoisted her up, back pressed against the wall so know he was looking up at her with a small, heart-stopping smile.

"Don't worry," She said in a low voice. "I'll get you one of these days."

"Your ego is astounding, Argent." He murmured against her collarbone.

"You'd be surprised."

* * *

_yes, ye old supply closet make out scene. It's a given for every fanfiction. I'm sorry for the wait I put you guys through. I can't say I've been busy - my days usually start at 2:00 PM, then the portion of my hours are spent playing The Last of Us for the fifth time. I can't write when the sun is out. Anywho, you guys seriously rule with your reviews and whatnot. I LOVE hearing from you. So please, any feedback/suggestions/some deep dark requests you would like to see, please let me know! You're all my best friends. Just saying._

_Also, need we talk about the 3B teaser? My tumblr tags should sum it up for you. January seems so far away._

_Until next time!_

_-Soph_


	4. Chapter 4

_Life suddenly got in the way, you guys. "We Were In Love" by Ta-Ku played on repeat while I wrote this chapter._

* * *

"If that's what you're wearing tonight, then I have done you an injustice as both a best friend and fashion consultant."

Allison glanced down at her loose sweater and jeans combo, frowning. "You said it was just a get-together."

As she sat prettily at her vanity, with a steady hand, Lydia carefully curled her long locks, crafting each one with perfection and admiring it as such. From her reflection, she looked at Allison with innocent eyes. "Did I say that?"

"I distinctly heard the words 'get-together'."

She gingerly set down her curling iron, small puffs of steam furling from her hair like a burning fire. "Honey, I don't even look that casual lounging around the house. Come here."

Allison was afraid that would happen: Lydia, in the name of friendship, closely scrutinizing Allison's wardrobe and insisting that it be replaced with something of hers. Something, she was sure, that was far more extravagant than anything she had ever bought. Allison never had a sister, but if she did, it would probably feel something like that.

Lydia rooted through her closet, murmuring, "Pass… pass… pass…" to herself as she rejected one sparkly blouse after another.

Allison thought quietly.

* * *

"_Isaac," A groan ripped through Allison._

"_Shh," He purred against her throat._

_They had not moved from the supply closet for what seemed like hours – but was probably minutes. Yet here they stood in the dark, dank room, seconds passing like the slow trickle of raindrops in the rain catcher Allison used to have many towns ago, intimately pressed against one another with all inhibitions long forgotten._

_There was an unbearable heat pooling in the pit of her stomach, practically telling her to claw and rip her way into this boy after going so long without being touched. It scared her – she'd never felt such an animalistic desire with Isaac behind the trigger. With Scott, she hated to compare, it was all fairly new territory – butterflies flying about, deep blushes with soft, tender and unsure touches. But with Isaac, it was different. It was a need to claim him. To mark him._

_She knew he loved it – he hissed sharply when her nails dug into the back of his neck, but he didn't let go. Instead, he seemed to have taken that as an unspoken agreement and clutched her with more force. Allison knew she was running the risk of bringing out the wolf in him – after all, a few minutes in closed spaces was enough to turn those cobalt eyes a bright yellow – who knew what would happen as her teeth grazed along his neck._

"_I thought you said you were going to get me all worked up before sending me on my way," Allison said in labored breaths. "Because I have to tell you, I'm pretty worked up right now."_

"_I'm a liar." He deadpanned, capturing her lips once more._

_She breathed a laugh between kisses. "In all seriousness, are you okay?"_

"_Are you trying to get rid of me?"_

"_I just don't want you to wolf-out on me in the middle of school. Isaac," She put a weak hand on his chest. The feeling his heart thrumming rapidly under her fingers excited her, reminded her that he was still human. "I'm serious. I may be a little more hesitant, but I still have no problem stabbing you."_

"_I'm serious too," His voice rumbled in his chest, deep and thick and completely intoxicating. "You don't need to worry about me."_

_She fought the urge to tell him that she does, indeed, need to worry about him, but instead said nothing._

"_What are we going to do about Lydia's party?" Isaac wondered aloud._

"_What do you mean?" Allison wondered how he managed to keep his voice so steady, while she spoke between whimpers and gasps._

_He hummed against her shoulder. "I won't be able to be in the same room as you without wanting to get you all alone."_

"_Yeah? And if you got me all alone, what would you do?" She dared._

"_What I'm doing to you right now," He murmured sweetly, his hands nearly took up most of her back, enveloping her into a heat as he gently pulled her closer him. "Watch that beautiful back of yours arch into me. Listen to your pulse beat in the most sensitive, secret parts of your body – and I want to kiss all of them. I want to watch the goose bumps rise on every inch of your skin." _

"_Isaac Lahey, you Casanova," Allison couldn't deny it: her legs suddenly quivered under the heavy weight of his words. Fleetingly, she considered risking the rumors that would float around should they both neglect to show up and find a dark room and prove that Isaac was really a man of his word._

_He seemed to read her mind. "Well, we could always cancel," His hands were stroking the small of her back with nimble fingers, leaving hot tendrils of fire in their wake. "…and have our own party."_

"_Although that is… very…" Her words faltered when his ruddy, swollen lips reattached themselves to her throat with a renewed bravado. She tilted her neck to accommodate him. "Tempting… I think people… are counting on us to show up."_

"_If you say so. Just try not to get frisky when you've had a few."_

"_Shut up," She took his shirt in her hands roughly. "And make better use of that mouth."_

* * *

Allison remembered stumbling back to class with a heartbeat pulsating between her legs.

"Here we go." Lydia's trilling voice broke her out of her reverie as she dramatically whipped a lacy top from her closet and tossed it towards Allison.

She eyed the blouse skeptically. It was sheer, save the piece of material that she assumed was supposed to cover her breasts. It flared out from the waist and the material felt soft in her hands. "Lydia, I-"

"My house, my rules," She stated in a sing-song, matter-of-factly voice. "And I say you're wearing that. We're not going to a funeral, so please ditch the frumpy sweater for everyone's sake."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone." She shucked off the cozy pullover regardless, knowing that Lydia wouldn't let her leave the room if she didn't.

"No matter what, there is always someone to impress," Lydia put a delicate hand on her best friend's shoulder, head tilted in a sympathetic manner. "I'm helping you reach your full potential, Allison. You'll thank me."

Allison eyed herself in the mirror with a defeated sigh. As a best friend and fashion consultant, Lydia has effortlessly made Allison look considerably better than when she showed up. She felt her nerves coil despite that. _Well, so much for trying to stay away._ _Tonight,_ she tried to remind herself, _we are just teenagers._

Sweeping her hair to the side, Allison said, "Just show me where the booze is."

* * *

She doesn't remember when the get-together between friends turned into a get-together for all of Beacon Hills.

Not that Lydia seemed to mind. Familiar faces appeared under the front door porch lights. Stiles wore a plaid shirt, asking where the food was. Scott smiled that infectious smile of his, admitting that he wasn't sure if he should have brought chips or not (so he didn't). Isaac smoothly said something back in that equally smooth leather jacket he was wearing, but Allison didn't hear him. Just focused on the wine in her glass.

After that, more people continued to filter into the grand Martin house. People she's seen from her trig class ("Wasn't that test insane?") or from P.E ("I think we're starting soccer next week.") to people she's never even met ("Do you go to Beacon Hills?"). Bodies packed in like Lydia's house had become a refugee camp. Everyone was close and warm and swaying to the heavy music that vibrated through the ground. The smell of alcohol and intermingling perfumes and colognes hung in the air.

"You look like you're having fun."

Allison, she hated to admit, was drunk. Eager to throw herself into a beer-induced fog, she found a corner to disappear into. But no matter what, Scott always managed to find her. She chalked it up to old habits dying hard.

"Not in the partying mood, I guess," She replied meekly, taking another sip. Her face visibly contorted as it made its way down her throat, burning and settling uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She always was a lightweight.

She looked up to see Scott smiling gently. From her vantage point on the isolated loveseat, the yellow florescent lights glowed softly around all of his otherwise sharp edges like an angel. She took him in for as long as what was appropriate would allow: his tattoo, the uneven curve of his jaw. How he grinned and still managed to looks so young and unaffected while Allison swore she spotted a gray hair the other day.

Yeah, sometimes she really missed Scott.

"You've been acting strange," He pointed out; seeming to ignore the blank stare he was on the receiving end of and gingerly sat down next to her. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," She said, no longer able to hide behind the veil of sobriety. "I'm sorry, Scott. I don't want to worry you. Never want to worry you. I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"I know," He spoke slowly, like every word he said was being lost to the can of beer she clutched in her hand.

From across the room, Allison spotted Isaac. He was smiling dazzlingly at a couple of girls she's never seen before. The two mysterious girls were smiling flirtatiously_ -too_ flirtatiously - with their long, toned legs and shiny hair. She suddenly felt everything at once – an irrational anger for Isaac. And a crippling sadness for Scott, because as he sits next to her with his worried frown, she is not letting him mingle and smile and dance and be _happy. _Because if anyone deserved happiness, it was Scott – and she never wanted to be the thing standing between him and the semi-normal life they had all been desperately striving for as of late.

Tears burned in her eyes. Beer burned in her stomach.

Time began to move slower with small, infrequent bursts of where it seemed as though everyone was moving faster than she could fathom. Allison knew she shouldn't have drank at all, and if she did, know she shouldn't have had as many as she did, knew she shouldn't have charged across the room like a woman on a mission and practically shoved the girls just trying to have a good time out of the way to get to Isaac.

Knowing all of these things, she didn't pause for a second. Never let go of her tight grip on his hand as she stomped out the back door with him tow, leaving behind the house that lit like a, well, a beacon.

"Do you want to know what I was dreaming about the other night?" Breathlessly, she stopped where the thinly wooded forest grew denser and leaned against a tree with hands latched onto his belt loops. "We were in the shower and you were going down on me."

His pupils were moony and dilated. He said nothing.

"God," She felt as though a weight had been lifted. In the dark, she could only see the outline of his sharp jaw. She saw stars, but there were none out. "Seeing you on your knees in front of me was a trip. An absolute trip."

Allison felt safe wrapped in the darkness, away from judging eyes. "I came so hard I cracked the tiles."

There was a brief, unsettling moment of silence that gave Allison a chance to drunkenly process what she had just admitted to Isaac.

"Touch me," Her voice was less like a plea more like a dare.

"You're drunk."

"I'm wasted. Touch me."

He touched her.

She half-expected him to abstain, saying that he didn't want to take advantage of her in her vulnerable state. But almost instantly, like the air being let out of a tire, she sighed heavily out of relief when he kissed her like he was a dying man. With tongues and legs intertwined, Allison felt his hardness against her thigh. She clumsily fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, absently feeling a warm moisture on her cheeks.

"You're crying." Isaac said, almost flatly.

"No I'm not," Was her immediate response. "So? I always cry when I'm drunk."

He pressed his forehead against hers, his body head falling off of him in waves. "Allison."

"Your face was the last thing I saw when I was in that ice tub. I mean, I know Deaton said that we would always feel this darkness, but I never knew…" When her words failed, she pressed her face into his neck, hoping that she would find whatever she needed today in the muscles around his jugular. "Doesn't it freak you out? This connection?"

"A little," He confessed softly. "But I can't pretend to know what it feels like."

"I wish it was easier." Her voice was choked, stomach suddenly queasy.

He didn't know what she was talking about, but said "Me too" anyway, and let her cry a little more.

* * *

_Oh god. This chapter was a monumental pain in the ass. But thanks to Air (o-seastarved) for helping me as much as she could, even though this author couldn't seem to find a plot in this mess. ANYWAY, I'm really really sorry for the long wait. I started my junior year and had to deal with some crazy hectic things over the past two weeks. But I managed to crank out the rest of this chapter because I hate making you guys wait! So, I really hope it was worth it. Anyway, please let me know what you thought because I LOVE hearing from you!_

_Until next time!_

_-Soph_


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